On nearly every single previous post you can practically taste my anxieties. I'm not going to tell you that I've found a new and exciting way to never worry again but something Joshua said has stuck with me and locked my worries in the closet.
I worry about a lot of things. I worry about all these weird gun men in my town deciding to spray a barrage a bullets and blow Joshua's brains out. I'm worried about my entire family dying all at once in a horrible, fiery car crash. I'm worried about finding my cats still and motionless, curled up dead somewhere around the house. I'm worried about a major tank collapse so my whole fishy community goes belly up. At least I'm not worried about anatomy anymore. Funny thing is, with childbirth looming in the future you think I would be scared of the possibility of my own death, but this is not so. I never worry about my own death because if I were to die, I would just be dead so I couldn't be upset about it. And though I'd hate to leave a daughter and husband-type I know they have an excellent extended family to look out for them.
I told Joshua how much I was worrying and he told me not to because whether I worry or not what, things will or won't happen. My worry does not affect the outcome of any of these situations, it only puts me under great distress and outs ugly worry winkles on my face. Why worry if everyone I love is going to die? If they die, they die and I can grieve when the time comes but there's just no point in worrying.
I used to worry about my cats more than anything. Due to the wild nature of pets they are prone to horrible and gory accidents, things that (most) humans have enough sense to avoid. Sometimes when one of them was sleeping I would cry into their fur and pet them softly, all too aware that our time together was incredibly brief. Of course I don't like doing this, crying preemptively over the death of your cats is simply uncalled for, and the cats don't really like me making ugly sobbing noises over them and getting their fur all wet while they're trying to sleep.
In short: cry when something bad happens, if you cry preemptively about everything then you will never be happy.
In locking away my fears to face them at appropriate times, I have found myself a lot happier. Without worrying, the sun still comes up, the moon still comes down, and Dixie still kicks the living daylights out of my insides. So really, things are good now.
Joshua and I have taken to playing frisbee, it's a decent work out, it gets us outside, and it's incredibly satisfying to see that plastic disk fly through the air. I don't now why but these frisbee games feel really special to me. To see Joshua smiling in the sunlight, feeling the smile on my own face. Our laughter and prompt apologies as someone makes a horrible throw and the disk is sent careening away. Every second of our frisbee games is cataloged in my mind as moments to never forget. I hope to still remember the feeling of pure and simple joy while outside, pregnant with my baby's father, throwing the frisbee around like there's nothing we'd rather be doing. I wonder if this is how all dogs feel about frisbee.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Onward (incomplete)
Well I failed.
But I've never felt better about failure.
This class used to give me panic attacks. I spent so much time studying and dreading the next class that I wasn't enjoying my pregnancy or my life. Now that it's out of here I have a lot more time, I focus easier on my other class, and most importantly I don't feel like I'm gonna have a heat-attack at any given moment. Though I have failed I feel more hopeful, mostly because whatever my next endeavor is, undoubtedly it will go over better than that did. As for my next endeavor, it's looking like I may sit out the next semester at Santa Fe. Unless I can find another single semester class (one that isn't excruciatingly difficult) school will directly conflict with the whole birthing and being a mother to a newborn. Most fall classes will be ending in December, one month too late. Then again do I really wanna waddle around campus in the last trimester? No. I really don't.
So until later, what I'm doing is what I will be doing. Just what I wanted, existing, and nothing more. Having all this time on my hands seems ideal to start a project or two. We were considering building a chicken coop but is backyard construction an ideal hobby for a pregnant lady? Yeah why not? OK I'm gonna do it. I have $400 worth of Santa Fe money and only one extremely easy basic computing class. Plenty of time, and I've built a chicken coop and scratch yard before. So yeah maybe that will be a thing.
In case you hadn't heard, I took an oil painting class last semester and I was pretty successful. I got an A and was urged to keep painting by the teacher and fellow classmates, who seemed to really admired my work. The thing with painting is that you have to do a lot of practicing before they're worth even $20, and I don't really like having dozens of sub-par practice paintings strewn all about the place....but you gotta make em to surpass that. I still do have all my supplies but I don't know, that is still up in the air. Also it tends to be messy.
Then there's this blog. I enjoy writing but really I wish I could write fantasy stories, not a dull account of goings-on in my life. The thing is, I don't really know how or where to start. I was hoping Santa Fe offered some kind of creative writing class but alas, it's only journalism. A perfectly boring and respectable alternative to something fun and interesting. Heh. Isn't that just how college is? Takes the fun right out of everything.
My dad gave me a guitar, I still have two ukuleles, and a violin. I could practice those, I pretty much suck at all of them right now. So...yes there's a lot of room for improvement.
*********************
In other news, I said this would never become a product endorsement blog but the time has come where I found a product so amazing I would be a big bitch not to share. Anyone who has been pregnant or is pregnant knows that sleeping turns into bullshit. Between your back hurting and legs thrashing, being harassed from the inside by a parasitic tyrant, and finding a comfortable position to support your belly sleep really goes out the window, until I found this baby. Just look at that prego lady, she looks comfy as shit, it's cause she is. I mean you'll still be kicked from inside and you'll still need to kick your legs around but at least you will be comfy. Really really comfy.
I mean of course you could just use 3 or 4 regular pillows but good luck keeping them in place when you toss and turn. The first night I had this I slept so good I dreamed I was at a college pool party with tribal glow paint on my face, in-line skating underwater in a pool with an partially exploded coke can. Yeah it's that extreme.
But I've never felt better about failure.
This class used to give me panic attacks. I spent so much time studying and dreading the next class that I wasn't enjoying my pregnancy or my life. Now that it's out of here I have a lot more time, I focus easier on my other class, and most importantly I don't feel like I'm gonna have a heat-attack at any given moment. Though I have failed I feel more hopeful, mostly because whatever my next endeavor is, undoubtedly it will go over better than that did. As for my next endeavor, it's looking like I may sit out the next semester at Santa Fe. Unless I can find another single semester class (one that isn't excruciatingly difficult) school will directly conflict with the whole birthing and being a mother to a newborn. Most fall classes will be ending in December, one month too late. Then again do I really wanna waddle around campus in the last trimester? No. I really don't.
So until later, what I'm doing is what I will be doing. Just what I wanted, existing, and nothing more. Having all this time on my hands seems ideal to start a project or two. We were considering building a chicken coop but is backyard construction an ideal hobby for a pregnant lady? Yeah why not? OK I'm gonna do it. I have $400 worth of Santa Fe money and only one extremely easy basic computing class. Plenty of time, and I've built a chicken coop and scratch yard before. So yeah maybe that will be a thing.
In case you hadn't heard, I took an oil painting class last semester and I was pretty successful. I got an A and was urged to keep painting by the teacher and fellow classmates, who seemed to really admired my work. The thing with painting is that you have to do a lot of practicing before they're worth even $20, and I don't really like having dozens of sub-par practice paintings strewn all about the place....but you gotta make em to surpass that. I still do have all my supplies but I don't know, that is still up in the air. Also it tends to be messy.
 |
| I painted this watermelon by myself with some quick instruction from Lisa. I think I did such a good job on it because I really really wanted to eat it and I told myself I couldn't touch the model until the painting was done. |
Then there's this blog. I enjoy writing but really I wish I could write fantasy stories, not a dull account of goings-on in my life. The thing is, I don't really know how or where to start. I was hoping Santa Fe offered some kind of creative writing class but alas, it's only journalism. A perfectly boring and respectable alternative to something fun and interesting. Heh. Isn't that just how college is? Takes the fun right out of everything.
My dad gave me a guitar, I still have two ukuleles, and a violin. I could practice those, I pretty much suck at all of them right now. So...yes there's a lot of room for improvement.
*********************
In other news, I said this would never become a product endorsement blog but the time has come where I found a product so amazing I would be a big bitch not to share. Anyone who has been pregnant or is pregnant knows that sleeping turns into bullshit. Between your back hurting and legs thrashing, being harassed from the inside by a parasitic tyrant, and finding a comfortable position to support your belly sleep really goes out the window, until I found this baby. Just look at that prego lady, she looks comfy as shit, it's cause she is. I mean you'll still be kicked from inside and you'll still need to kick your legs around but at least you will be comfy. Really really comfy.
I mean of course you could just use 3 or 4 regular pillows but good luck keeping them in place when you toss and turn. The first night I had this I slept so good I dreamed I was at a college pool party with tribal glow paint on my face, in-line skating underwater in a pool with an partially exploded coke can. Yeah it's that extreme.
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes (incomplete)
In case you couldn't have guessed, I'm not wearing goth clothes and lolita dresses through pregnancy. Truth be told I haven't worn that stuff in quite awhile, and the few outfits I did have were reserved for special outings. Overall though, my style is the same since pre-pregnancy, mostly geared towards laziness, comfort, and mobility. The only difference is now how people view me. I guess being pregnant means you have to wear nothing but oversized t-shirts.
When I look at my reflection straight on, my boyish figure has disappeared. Hips has grown where there was once horse-flanks adding a strange curve I have never before seen on my body. Even when I got fat I still never had much hip, so I think this is a delightful change. Looking at myself from an anterior view, things are much the same despite having gained 15lbs or so it doesn't really look like I'm a big fat-ass, but when I turn to look at my profile I am shocked and uneasy every time. I'm 23 weeks now and growing steadily, still much more growing to do, but when I see myself in the mirror I wonder "how in the fuck?? What the hell??" According to the mom-website that e-mails me about weekly changes, Dixie is now the size of a spaghetti squash and it's pretty much what my swollen belly looks like. I don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to this new body. I hear afterwards I have saggy boobs and stretch marks to look forward too, I guess I had better enjoy it. I will never look this good again my entire life.
Considering looks and style but concerning mental changes, something strange happened to me the other day. I showed up at someone's house with a friend of mine. Inside a wild ass mom-party was raging. Four or five women, all mothers and their children all hanging out and getting turnt up together. Some mothers were drinking and the children varying in ages from...(excluding my friend's infant son) I'm going to say 4-6 because I'm not too familiar with children and what they look like at different ages... were running about and having a a blast. Maybe it was because some of them were tipsy but I got a lot of remarks about my "style." One woman said she liked my whole "thing" and another called me "edgy." I'm not sure how I felt about that, I certainly don't feel edgy and I wasn't at the maternity store like "where is the most badass, edgy, and hardcore maternity stuff ya got??" I don't know. I probably would've taken it as a compliment in my teens and early twenties but now....I just don't know. I wasn't trying to be anything apart from cool, comfortable, and mobile.
Boobs are back to D cups, this is still smaller than they were before the reduction surgery. As long as I don't hit triple D again I'll be O.K. I don't even care if they're ruined, before my surgery I told the doctor to take them all the way off, no cup because I hate them and they get in the way when you run or dance or jump or do anything.
I'll never forget the day I got a coupon in the mail for a free bra from Victoria's Secret. For a poor girl like me, this is a seriously big deal. Those bras are a far cry from the flimsy Walmart shit I usually ended up wearing and having my massive boobs spill over the top to produce the unflattering "quadboob." When I got down to VS I asked where the Triple D's were and the women told me they didn't carry sizes that large and I had to go to Cacique. Well not only do I not have a coupon for Cacique but also.....THAT IS THE FAT LADY STORE!!!! So! I have to shop at the fat lady store because I have massive mammaries? Nothing else on me is plus size! Needless to say, my heart sank!
Boy-howdy, first catcalling then fat-shaming? My blog is getting edgy! Don't kill me Tumblr I am a bisexual female minority! (and I'm never serious)
I'm not the only one to be going through changes. My mild-mannered Joshua is turning into the berserker prince from my favorite story. The other day at the springs we had established a nice shady spot by the water and at the foot of a large tree. It was close enough so we could still keep the site in view from the water, and dangle our feet in from just few paces away. It was pretty perfect, until a group of 6 people or so all showed up, sat directly beside us, and simultaneously lit up cigarettes and began puffing away like the little engine that could (die of lung cancer.) I decided we should relocate, Joshua was furious. He began spouting all kinds of anger, talking about robbing people who deserve it and fighting those guys or telling them they were assholes and all kinds of other stuff. While it's true they are assholes (who decides to form a chain smoking gang around an obviously pregnant woman?) I always avoid a fight.
When I look at my reflection straight on, my boyish figure has disappeared. Hips has grown where there was once horse-flanks adding a strange curve I have never before seen on my body. Even when I got fat I still never had much hip, so I think this is a delightful change. Looking at myself from an anterior view, things are much the same despite having gained 15lbs or so it doesn't really look like I'm a big fat-ass, but when I turn to look at my profile I am shocked and uneasy every time. I'm 23 weeks now and growing steadily, still much more growing to do, but when I see myself in the mirror I wonder "how in the fuck?? What the hell??" According to the mom-website that e-mails me about weekly changes, Dixie is now the size of a spaghetti squash and it's pretty much what my swollen belly looks like. I don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to this new body. I hear afterwards I have saggy boobs and stretch marks to look forward too, I guess I had better enjoy it. I will never look this good again my entire life.
Considering looks and style but concerning mental changes, something strange happened to me the other day. I showed up at someone's house with a friend of mine. Inside a wild ass mom-party was raging. Four or five women, all mothers and their children all hanging out and getting turnt up together. Some mothers were drinking and the children varying in ages from...(excluding my friend's infant son) I'm going to say 4-6 because I'm not too familiar with children and what they look like at different ages... were running about and having a a blast. Maybe it was because some of them were tipsy but I got a lot of remarks about my "style." One woman said she liked my whole "thing" and another called me "edgy." I'm not sure how I felt about that, I certainly don't feel edgy and I wasn't at the maternity store like "where is the most badass, edgy, and hardcore maternity stuff ya got??" I don't know. I probably would've taken it as a compliment in my teens and early twenties but now....I just don't know. I wasn't trying to be anything apart from cool, comfortable, and mobile.
 |
| Here's the edgy outfit, and the edgy dirty mirror. |
Where I was complaining before about the in-between stage of not quite looking pregnant (just looking like I had a beer belly) now I finally look obviously pregnant and it's a whole new world of thoughts and social encounters. That thing that all pregnant women loathe has finally begun happening to me, people reach out and touch my stomach without permission or warning. So far, it has only been family which isn't too horrible, but it is a little awkward. Despite looking tough (I guess), I'm really mostly a passive pushover so I don't think I'll ever have the heart to tell people to lay off the goods.
Another realization of mental change occurred when I went to Hogan's Heroes to get a late night sandwich. Let's be real, I know I'm hot *wink* It's probably all I have going for me, but when someone flirts with me now it's just....bizarre. The guy at the counter, perhaps he was being overly friendly, but it seemed flirtatious to me with a lot of smiling and glancing my way and asking a lot of unprompted questions about my night. I wondered "who the heck flirts with pregnant women?" Someone who either has a very specific fetish or likes damsels in distress, because what pregnant women isn't in distress? It's distressing seeing your abdomen extend and feeling exhausted! Some women get up in arms about being catcalled and flirted with, personally I like knowing that I look good enough to risk a sexual harassment lawsuit. It lets me know I'm doing something right :).
I guess feminists would disagree and say that I have many other positive qualities that I should look to for validation and the patriarchy has tricked me into viewing my looks as an all-encompassing sign of success....but...come on, I just discussed my academic failures, this is all I have OK, don't belittle it! Anyway I used to like it...now it's just unusual.
Another realization of mental change occurred when I went to Hogan's Heroes to get a late night sandwich. Let's be real, I know I'm hot *wink* It's probably all I have going for me, but when someone flirts with me now it's just....bizarre. The guy at the counter, perhaps he was being overly friendly, but it seemed flirtatious to me with a lot of smiling and glancing my way and asking a lot of unprompted questions about my night. I wondered "who the heck flirts with pregnant women?" Someone who either has a very specific fetish or likes damsels in distress, because what pregnant women isn't in distress? It's distressing seeing your abdomen extend and feeling exhausted! Some women get up in arms about being catcalled and flirted with, personally I like knowing that I look good enough to risk a sexual harassment lawsuit. It lets me know I'm doing something right :).
I guess feminists would disagree and say that I have many other positive qualities that I should look to for validation and the patriarchy has tricked me into viewing my looks as an all-encompassing sign of success....but...come on, I just discussed my academic failures, this is all I have OK, don't belittle it! Anyway I used to like it...now it's just unusual.
Boobs are back to D cups, this is still smaller than they were before the reduction surgery. As long as I don't hit triple D again I'll be O.K. I don't even care if they're ruined, before my surgery I told the doctor to take them all the way off, no cup because I hate them and they get in the way when you run or dance or jump or do anything.
I'll never forget the day I got a coupon in the mail for a free bra from Victoria's Secret. For a poor girl like me, this is a seriously big deal. Those bras are a far cry from the flimsy Walmart shit I usually ended up wearing and having my massive boobs spill over the top to produce the unflattering "quadboob." When I got down to VS I asked where the Triple D's were and the women told me they didn't carry sizes that large and I had to go to Cacique. Well not only do I not have a coupon for Cacique but also.....THAT IS THE FAT LADY STORE!!!! So! I have to shop at the fat lady store because I have massive mammaries? Nothing else on me is plus size! Needless to say, my heart sank!
Boy-howdy, first catcalling then fat-shaming? My blog is getting edgy! Don't kill me Tumblr I am a bisexual female minority! (and I'm never serious)
I'm not the only one to be going through changes. My mild-mannered Joshua is turning into the berserker prince from my favorite story. The other day at the springs we had established a nice shady spot by the water and at the foot of a large tree. It was close enough so we could still keep the site in view from the water, and dangle our feet in from just few paces away. It was pretty perfect, until a group of 6 people or so all showed up, sat directly beside us, and simultaneously lit up cigarettes and began puffing away like the little engine that could (die of lung cancer.) I decided we should relocate, Joshua was furious. He began spouting all kinds of anger, talking about robbing people who deserve it and fighting those guys or telling them they were assholes and all kinds of other stuff. While it's true they are assholes (who decides to form a chain smoking gang around an obviously pregnant woman?) I always avoid a fight.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Giving Up and Giving In
Well friends, I've been really busy with my anatomy class.
Not sure if I discussed this with you all or not, but my plan was to get a quick certification in medical coding and billing so I could work from home with Dixie and make some decent money. Well that plan looked great on paper and quickly shut-up anyone when they asked "but what are you gonna do now?!" It made me sound clever and showed that I had forethought during this pregnancy to ensure that my daughter has a mother who was worth a crap. However I overlooked one slight detail in this plan. I forgot to factor in the truth, that I am dumb as a sack of bricks, and maybe after all might not be worth any single or multiple craps.
As Annie put it "we were unfortunate enough to grow up in a time where people told us that we could do anything and be anything we wanted if we just tried really really hard." Well I honestly believed that. I never wanted any job in any kind of medical because I don't want to help people and I'm not interested in the slightest, but I just wanted to make a decent living working from home and it seemed coding and billing fit that need. However even if you try really really hard you can't force a square peg in a round hole and you can't force a dumb dodo bird to learn anatomy in a single semester class.
I did believe that I was smart, now I believe that I was just cocky and I probably have a bright future ahead of me in the new and exciting career path of "crazed armed robber."
Until now there was never a class I couldn't pass if I had put forth any real amount of effort. The key there was putting forth effort at all, since I usually never cared enough to try. But for the previous exam I had studied and taken notes every single day, I have used quizlet, I have made flashcards, I have read the notes over and over, stared at this screen till I felt my eyes were going to bleed, then on the day of the exam I was relatively confident. Well next class period we were getting ready to take the second exam but not before we could take a look at our grade for the previous exam. All that preparation, all the confidence and I had just BARELY BARELY passed with a low C. The professor then explained that 2 questions everyone had gotten wrong so she gave us 4 extra points for free. Without those 4 points I probably would have failed. If you fail one exam you automatically fail the class. I even felt good about that exam.
Needless to say I wasn't half as confident about the 2nd exam and I am sure as shit that I have failed already. Yet here I am, studying, and taking notes, part of me still foolishly believing that I might have made it, like relatives of those in Hiroshima believed their loved ones may have survived the atomic bomb.
Anyhow scrapping what seemed like a good plan is tough, especially when you don't want to piss off your financial aid.
Discussing this with Joshua one night, he made an excellence point. "I know you're just doing this for Dixie but is it even right? I mean you've just got off medications for anxiety disorder so you decide to plunge into one of the hardest classes offered at Santa Fe while in your second trimester of pregnancy?" Well when he put it like that it made me realize that I was probably fooling myself all along and I will have to slide through this class and get an F or D (because dropping it will kill my financial aid) then figure something else out.
I will have to make other plans to make money. I could always hit the pole again, or just be a full blown prostitute, or maybe I should cook crystal meth...anyhow my horizons are still limitless as you can see thanks to my superior knowledge and excellent learning skills. Anyhow I guess I have a good while to get something started, even though she may be born into poverty, babies have no notion of socioeconomic classes and I have until she is maybe 5 or so until she realizes that her mother is a good-for-nothing dirtbag!
Ok so I am a great hairdresser. I could just get my license renewed and do that, but it's not from home and I don't like the scene. I'm not social (or particularly friendly) and I don't care about fashion, but I can give a great haircut and some fancy dye jobs and color corrections. If I'm desperate and I decide to sell my soul to fashionable Satan I will do it, but crazed armed robber is still higher on my list.
"So what about this blog?"
Well I can make money off it once it has been active for at least 6 months and that's if adsense even accepts it. There are so many mom blogs and lifestyle blogs out there, I read that they are no longer even eligible for adsense but still I have to believe. But have you even ever made money off of adsense? It's not a lot, I'm talking cents. If I really got it going and wanted to make real money I'd have to do whack shit like product endorsements and trial reviews and pimp my page out on every facet of the interwebs, and goof around on youtube like some pewdiepie or ray william johnson asshole. (I didn't capitalize their names because they don't deserve it) I'm hesitant at selling myself because I don't believe in endorsing poor products at rip-off prices. What do I really have to offer to the world anyway?
~~~~~
My grandfather is a successful business man. He owns a local accounting firm and I've heard him casually discussing millions of dollars over the phone, more money than I will ever get my greasy hands on. Just yesterday he was discussing what it what like to have a family and he said "you know people are so busy nowadays working for this and that and trying to achieve goals and get the ball rolling on big projects- all for their family, but by the time they accomplish anything (if they ever accomplish anything) their children are all grown up and moved out. We shouldn't be so caught up in other things that we forget that family is what's most important."
Anyhow it gave me a glimmer of hope because I have no plan, no career path (that matches what I want), and my chance for education is drying up like a puddle in August, but I do have a family.
Not sure if I discussed this with you all or not, but my plan was to get a quick certification in medical coding and billing so I could work from home with Dixie and make some decent money. Well that plan looked great on paper and quickly shut-up anyone when they asked "but what are you gonna do now?!" It made me sound clever and showed that I had forethought during this pregnancy to ensure that my daughter has a mother who was worth a crap. However I overlooked one slight detail in this plan. I forgot to factor in the truth, that I am dumb as a sack of bricks, and maybe after all might not be worth any single or multiple craps.
As Annie put it "we were unfortunate enough to grow up in a time where people told us that we could do anything and be anything we wanted if we just tried really really hard." Well I honestly believed that. I never wanted any job in any kind of medical because I don't want to help people and I'm not interested in the slightest, but I just wanted to make a decent living working from home and it seemed coding and billing fit that need. However even if you try really really hard you can't force a square peg in a round hole and you can't force a dumb dodo bird to learn anatomy in a single semester class.
I did believe that I was smart, now I believe that I was just cocky and I probably have a bright future ahead of me in the new and exciting career path of "crazed armed robber."
Until now there was never a class I couldn't pass if I had put forth any real amount of effort. The key there was putting forth effort at all, since I usually never cared enough to try. But for the previous exam I had studied and taken notes every single day, I have used quizlet, I have made flashcards, I have read the notes over and over, stared at this screen till I felt my eyes were going to bleed, then on the day of the exam I was relatively confident. Well next class period we were getting ready to take the second exam but not before we could take a look at our grade for the previous exam. All that preparation, all the confidence and I had just BARELY BARELY passed with a low C. The professor then explained that 2 questions everyone had gotten wrong so she gave us 4 extra points for free. Without those 4 points I probably would have failed. If you fail one exam you automatically fail the class. I even felt good about that exam.
Needless to say I wasn't half as confident about the 2nd exam and I am sure as shit that I have failed already. Yet here I am, studying, and taking notes, part of me still foolishly believing that I might have made it, like relatives of those in Hiroshima believed their loved ones may have survived the atomic bomb.
Anyhow scrapping what seemed like a good plan is tough, especially when you don't want to piss off your financial aid.
Discussing this with Joshua one night, he made an excellence point. "I know you're just doing this for Dixie but is it even right? I mean you've just got off medications for anxiety disorder so you decide to plunge into one of the hardest classes offered at Santa Fe while in your second trimester of pregnancy?" Well when he put it like that it made me realize that I was probably fooling myself all along and I will have to slide through this class and get an F or D (because dropping it will kill my financial aid) then figure something else out.
I will have to make other plans to make money. I could always hit the pole again, or just be a full blown prostitute, or maybe I should cook crystal meth...anyhow my horizons are still limitless as you can see thanks to my superior knowledge and excellent learning skills. Anyhow I guess I have a good while to get something started, even though she may be born into poverty, babies have no notion of socioeconomic classes and I have until she is maybe 5 or so until she realizes that her mother is a good-for-nothing dirtbag!
Ok so I am a great hairdresser. I could just get my license renewed and do that, but it's not from home and I don't like the scene. I'm not social (or particularly friendly) and I don't care about fashion, but I can give a great haircut and some fancy dye jobs and color corrections. If I'm desperate and I decide to sell my soul to fashionable Satan I will do it, but crazed armed robber is still higher on my list.
"So what about this blog?"
Well I can make money off it once it has been active for at least 6 months and that's if adsense even accepts it. There are so many mom blogs and lifestyle blogs out there, I read that they are no longer even eligible for adsense but still I have to believe. But have you even ever made money off of adsense? It's not a lot, I'm talking cents. If I really got it going and wanted to make real money I'd have to do whack shit like product endorsements and trial reviews and pimp my page out on every facet of the interwebs, and goof around on youtube like some pewdiepie or ray william johnson asshole. (I didn't capitalize their names because they don't deserve it) I'm hesitant at selling myself because I don't believe in endorsing poor products at rip-off prices. What do I really have to offer to the world anyway?
~~~~~
My grandfather is a successful business man. He owns a local accounting firm and I've heard him casually discussing millions of dollars over the phone, more money than I will ever get my greasy hands on. Just yesterday he was discussing what it what like to have a family and he said "you know people are so busy nowadays working for this and that and trying to achieve goals and get the ball rolling on big projects- all for their family, but by the time they accomplish anything (if they ever accomplish anything) their children are all grown up and moved out. We shouldn't be so caught up in other things that we forget that family is what's most important."
Anyhow it gave me a glimmer of hope because I have no plan, no career path (that matches what I want), and my chance for education is drying up like a puddle in August, but I do have a family.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
The big gender reveal
Since you are here, chances are you have already seen my facebook post, if not, we're having a girl!
Sorry no pictures this time!
Yesterday was a really good day, it began a little crazy though.
I've gained about 10 lbs which is right on target for halfway. While biologically it's great, in the mirror I have been utterly horrified. As someone who had gotten really fat once before in her life then lost a lot of weight, it's scary to see myself balloon up once more after all of my hard work. However since I was able to do it once, I'm confident I can do it again when the time comes. The most notable toll of this extra weight is my big fat neck makes me snore and has given me sleep apnea.
The night before yesterday (is there another way to phrase that?), I slept particularly badly. My stomach was hurting and I couldn't breath. I tossed and turned all night, too hot, too cold, crampy legs, painful back etc. By the time I got to really good sleep it was nearly 6 am, at which point some dodo bird (I have recently been using this as my favorite derogatory term.) started repeatedly calling Joshua's phone to inform him that he wouldn't be coming into work. This made us realize how balls it was to actually be a manager. Joshua wasn't even scheduled that day and really didn't give any fucks about it, but the new kid had to tell someone. That someone is kitchen manager, even on his day off. That's annoying for kitchen manager, but for manager's restless waifu who also hears the phone ringing off the hook, it's a crime punishable by beheading. In summation I slept poorly so I woke up late which later affected something else.
I awoke to the smell of bacon but when I made my way into the kitchen there was none for me. Joshua said he was right about to head into town so which I responded "without me? OAO" So I rushed to get dressed, whined about him not leaving me any breakfast then we flew out the door. I later learned he intended to leave me half of a sandwich but he ended up eating it. At least he thought about me.
Joshua had to visit his dad in physical therapy and I went to get lonely breakfast at Perkins while they did that. I love eating at Perkins and generally being anywhere where there is a lot of old people. As I come in they stare at me, sometimes disgusted because I have a nose ring and tattoos I guess. I really love this because it provides me with an opportunity to show them how wrong their assumptions are. I talk to every waiter and waitress kindly and graciously, using my best southern manners with words like please, thank you, sir and ma'am. I hold doors open and wait quietly and patiently, occasionally I strike up small conversation with the elderly patrons. This particular breakfast I decided to study my anatomy book while waiting on food, the look on the wrinkled faces of the couple next to me was priceless. Haha, I just wrecked your stereotyped expectations!
Since breakfast is ruined by pregnancy I had to order something I usually wouldn't go for. Chicken biscuit with gravy, scrambled eggs, paper thin bacon, and undercooked hash browns. I ate the chicken biscuits (well the chicken and gravy part) and left pretty much everything else since it wasn't very good. I started thinking about quotes from Ratatouille that have begun to fit my new eating habits. "If I don't love it, I don't swallow." After the mediocre breakfast I went to the rehab center to pick up Joshua and visit with Bruce.
Upon reaching the rehab center I was one sneeze, cough, or belly laugh away from peeing my pants. So when I was greeted by the staff, it was my first address. "Hi welcome, what can we do for you?" The woman I'm speaking to is dressed nicely in a long, flower print dress and her black hair in a tight bun. I assume she is probably the administrator since she isn't wearing scrubs like the other women around "I really have to use the bathroom" Probably assuming I'm just some weirdo off the street not even here to visit old people she gives a puzzled look. "ok well I'm here to see someone too but first I really really have to use the bathroom." The admin points to basket on the reception table and tells me to grab the key and points to the bathrooms. A nearby woman in scrubs asks if I'm pregnant and I tell her I am. "You better give her the key to bathroom A, if she goes in B she's gonna get sick." The admin makes a sour face like her family had just been insulted and she hesitantly hands me the key for A. I hurry off while thanking the nurse over my shoulder. "Thank you for being honest! It's really easy to make me sick and I just had breakfast!"
When I leave the bathroom and go to the front to give them back the keys the admin confronts me. "Just so you know, there is nothing wrong with the other bathroom." The helpful nurse is nearby and she makes the big mama "mmmmhmmm" noise complete with sassy head sway before telling the admin "the key is right there, you can see for yourself!"
While I understand the admin's want to have her facility come off as clean and respectable, you gotta be honest. How ya gonna let a pregnant woman use a bathroom you know is nasty? I could've barfed everywhere so intensely that I would have peed myself in the process. Come on!
After a brief visit, Josh and I head to the mall. As I previously mentioned my pudgy new look isn't exactly my favorite and I had been feeling pretty sloppy. All of my best t-shirts and skirts had stopped fitting a few weeks ago and I was left with the unflattering dredges of "fat day" clothes. I know they're just fabric strips meant to hide your shameful nudity, but when you feel down about the way you look some new clothes can really make a difference. Joshua knew this and took me to the maternity store to buy some clothes that are actually flattering during pregnancy and now I look great again! I wanted to post some pictures of my new clothes here but I couldn't take full body pics by myself and Joshua didn't get home till later! I know I always talk about what a great baby-daddy he is but it's because I really mean it! It really meant a lot to me that he helped me get all dressed up and feeling good about my new body, instead of letting me go about my days looking like a bloated troll.
When the shopping was done we got lunch at Cymplify. Everything there is for hippies or rabbits and tastes entirely too healthy. A lot of their foods don't even have cheese but nut spread substitutes for vegans. I imagine this is what Californians eat. If you like flavors besides "nut" and "leaf" and I suggest you just go elsewhere. There was a pretty pitiful garden out front. Joshua took note and began hatin' loudly. "Who maintains that? They're doing a terrible job! What piece of shit!" I see a sign posted in the garden that says it was made and maintained by Buchholz Special Ed. classes so we have a tiny un-PC giggle at that. I guess after all these years I'm still going to hell.
Once the ultrasound appointment comes around, we are yuckin' it up in the waiting room. I notice it's dead quiet and somewhat somber in there, apart from Joshua and I snorting and guffawing. I tease him because he is telling me all kind of facts about espresso, all while mispronouncing it "eXpresso." He then sees some knitted things hanging on the wall and asks if they are socks, they are baby hats. I tell him they are for identifying your baby girl when she is bald as hell for the first years of her life. (just as I was) As I look around and notice we are the only ones talking and laughing I start to wonder if the other parents in the room think we are too silly to be good parents. I decide anyone who thinks that is too joyless to be a good parent.
Soon we are called back to the ultrasound room and I'm instructed to lift up my dress. I am embarrassed that I chose a lacy thong and now had to flash it to this elderly ultrasound tech. I feel like a dodo bird for my choice of garments but she says that dresses are convenient and soon my pubic area is covered by a white paper cloth. The tech. squirts warm gel on my stomach and it all begins. At first I can't really tell what I'm looking at, she zooms in so close that is just looks like fuzzy shapes. After a few minutes she points out some little body parts and I'm able to identify them. Heart looks great, nice straight spine, legs curled up, one arm reaching up and one back below. Finally the little thing uncrosses it's legs and we see the goods. The tech. tells us it's a girl. She snaps a photo of her genitals and types "it's a girl" on the screen, then presses enter several times so it spams across the photo "it's a girl!! It's a girl!! It's a girl!!" Joshua giggles and for the first time, I fully grasp that unbridled joy and my eyes begin to swell with tears under my glasses. I tell myself that I'm sure everyone cries at this visit and it's totally acceptable but I still don't want to look like a softy and I hastily try to wipe them away, but they keep coming. As the tech. continues looking around in there and pointing out different parts, my responses become muffled squeaks as I hold back sobs. I can't wait for it to be over now so I can just let it out.
Joshua says he's happy it's a girl but he's sad that he's gonna have to kill little boys in the future.
In the hallways after the ultrasound we jump up and down like teenage girls. We hug and giggle and kiss and I cry into his shirt. Then we both have to use the bathroom, where I discover that not only had I flashed the ultrasound tech my undies but in my haste to leave that morning I had put my undies on inside out and the tech. had undoubtedly seen that too.
I guess I am a dodo bird.
Some other things happened, but after the gender reveal the rest of the day was kind of hazy.
I gave myself a pedicure, ate some freezer burned cheese sticks, and studied for the upcoming anatomy exam.
Monday, July 6, 2015
milemarker
Sorry for the lack of updates until now. Life has resembled a disheveled and bug-infested hellscape until a day or so ago. With much thanks to friends and family, well William, Jordan, and Annie. (And Carley for volunteering, even though it never happened) we are finally all moved in.
The fish are safe in a pre-cycled quarantine tank while their real planted tank continues to get biologically established in our room. The day before we moved the tank I noticed a single flower had grown from an Anubias plant. It broke my heart to uproot it and move it because it was the first flower to bloom in the tank in a very long time and I would really be upset to kill it. However it too has made the move with no real damage.
The cats are here and learning to get along with each other. After three days of hiding and territorial hissing, Memphis and Walter have become friends again. Just a few minutes ago they were sniffing noses. Djinn now has 2 little nerds he likes to intimidate and harass. Sorry Walter, but it's kind of nice that Memphis gets a break from all the bullying, now he has been napping in our room without the frequent Djinn attacks.
All of our stuff is here now. It's scattered all around and stashed in boxes and crammed under the bed, but it is here. Arranging it all neatly and in easy access is another issue entirely. I was able to unpack our bedroom essentials and get our bathroom setup. Beyond that there really is no room to set up any of our other stuff so under the bed has become a vortex of boxes; the contents destined to be forgotten until a much later date when their reopening will be like Christmas morning, except it's all already your favorite things.
The several boxes of miscellaneous items left in the living room have been an endless source of frustration. Seeing them all over the place, contents spilling out like gory organs, is like a homemaker's nightmare. I want them to be put in their homes, but currently they don't have them so I'm considering just throwing them away. Don't look at the stuff too much and start thinking about what uses it has and how much you like it, just accept that it has no place in this house and bag it up and take it to the dump. It would be the fate of everything that doesn't fit under the bed if not for Joshua.
Perhaps it's because it's his father's house or perhaps it's because the tile floor makes my feet swell and hurt within minutes, whatever it is Joshua has been working magic in what was a filthy dump. He has cleared areas for us to put things, thrown away pounds of garbage and broken duplicate items, brought unfinished projects or neglected items to new life, and most importantly made me feel comfortable in a place where I wanted to curl up in section of swept floor, spray a protective ring of Lysol around me and cry myself to sleep. (Fun Fact: I have OCD so it's difficult to feel at ease somewhere you consider dirty.) Just last night, even after working a full 9 hour day, Joshua came home and sorted a massive pile of dusty cobwebbed bullshit, then cleared a lovely wooden bookcase for our room. At last I have a storage option for more of our boxes, it looks like this whole uprooting thing is finally coming to a close.
Since unpacking has come to a stalemate, I've been throwing myself into my school work. Right now I have a 90 in both classes and I intend to keep them there if possible. Santa Fe has really kept me positive through all of this. Concentrating on my school work has been helping me forget about my surroundings and the massive to-do list hanging over my head, also it gives me a way to better my life when my body is too sore to do any real physical work. I tell myself if I push myself in my school work all of our lives will be better. I can get a coding and billing certificate, work from home at a real person's job, and actually make a decent living. I tell myself that... but I'm too much of a realist to really believe a degree or certificate means instant employment. I also write this blog because occasionally a few people will tell me they like my writing and it makes me think perhaps I could be an author. I mean I've read a lot of really shitty books in my life and if those guys are authors well who's to say I can't be? I'll do whatever I can to stay on top of this game that no one wants to play, but not playing means giving up what we call civilized humanity. With a baby, I will have to play. Life is hard and it will be hard, there's no reason I deserve an easy ride. I don't deserve anything except....
The right to choose the kind of labor and delivery I want. My medical files have been reviewed and I have been accepted for prenatal care and natural delivery through the Birth and Wellness Center. My gender reveal ultrasound is tomorrow at 3:30 and in two weeks, I begin prenatal care at Birthing and Wellness Center. I am really excited but just as I said in a previous blog I think some of my joy is withheld because I feel like something horrible could still happen in the last few months. I have always been afraid to put too much of my heart into anything, because when my heart is broken I don't recover well. I start smoking cigarettes burying myself in other destructive behaviors, comforted only by the fact that I am slowly killing myself. Anyway, fears aside, what happiness I let myself feel is sheer empowerment. I want to have a natural birth because as I've said before I don't deserve any comforts or easy rides anymore than any other woman. Since women have been giving birth for hundreds of years without pitocin and epidurals and hospital beds why am I such a delicate flower that I can't do what my body was designed to do on it's very own. I hear there is nothing like the searing pain of childbirth and often the natural pain relief techniques don't mean squat when the baby is on the way. It seems strange but I'm looking forward to the pain as well as the child. The only way I can describe this way of thinking is that to me such an intense and monumental pain seems exquisite, a true reminder of what it means to be alive. I view it as obtaining some sort of martyrdom without actually having to die. (though you might *wink*) There's just something to be said for suffering on another person's behalf. I hope I can keep this attitude through labor and delivery.
The fish are safe in a pre-cycled quarantine tank while their real planted tank continues to get biologically established in our room. The day before we moved the tank I noticed a single flower had grown from an Anubias plant. It broke my heart to uproot it and move it because it was the first flower to bloom in the tank in a very long time and I would really be upset to kill it. However it too has made the move with no real damage.
 |
| Planted tank still cycling, Anubias flower off to the right. Don't know why I didn't try to get it in the picture? |
The cats are here and learning to get along with each other. After three days of hiding and territorial hissing, Memphis and Walter have become friends again. Just a few minutes ago they were sniffing noses. Djinn now has 2 little nerds he likes to intimidate and harass. Sorry Walter, but it's kind of nice that Memphis gets a break from all the bullying, now he has been napping in our room without the frequent Djinn attacks.
 |
| "I'm the biggest and the baddest" |
 |
| Half of the bedroom |
The several boxes of miscellaneous items left in the living room have been an endless source of frustration. Seeing them all over the place, contents spilling out like gory organs, is like a homemaker's nightmare. I want them to be put in their homes, but currently they don't have them so I'm considering just throwing them away. Don't look at the stuff too much and start thinking about what uses it has and how much you like it, just accept that it has no place in this house and bag it up and take it to the dump. It would be the fate of everything that doesn't fit under the bed if not for Joshua.
 |
| Last bit of our stuff with Walter for scale. |
Perhaps it's because it's his father's house or perhaps it's because the tile floor makes my feet swell and hurt within minutes, whatever it is Joshua has been working magic in what was a filthy dump. He has cleared areas for us to put things, thrown away pounds of garbage and broken duplicate items, brought unfinished projects or neglected items to new life, and most importantly made me feel comfortable in a place where I wanted to curl up in section of swept floor, spray a protective ring of Lysol around me and cry myself to sleep. (Fun Fact: I have OCD so it's difficult to feel at ease somewhere you consider dirty.) Just last night, even after working a full 9 hour day, Joshua came home and sorted a massive pile of dusty cobwebbed bullshit, then cleared a lovely wooden bookcase for our room. At last I have a storage option for more of our boxes, it looks like this whole uprooting thing is finally coming to a close.
 |
| Massive pile of cobwebbed bullshit to the right. Memphis hanging out on the cleared pool table. |
Since unpacking has come to a stalemate, I've been throwing myself into my school work. Right now I have a 90 in both classes and I intend to keep them there if possible. Santa Fe has really kept me positive through all of this. Concentrating on my school work has been helping me forget about my surroundings and the massive to-do list hanging over my head, also it gives me a way to better my life when my body is too sore to do any real physical work. I tell myself if I push myself in my school work all of our lives will be better. I can get a coding and billing certificate, work from home at a real person's job, and actually make a decent living. I tell myself that... but I'm too much of a realist to really believe a degree or certificate means instant employment. I also write this blog because occasionally a few people will tell me they like my writing and it makes me think perhaps I could be an author. I mean I've read a lot of really shitty books in my life and if those guys are authors well who's to say I can't be? I'll do whatever I can to stay on top of this game that no one wants to play, but not playing means giving up what we call civilized humanity. With a baby, I will have to play. Life is hard and it will be hard, there's no reason I deserve an easy ride. I don't deserve anything except....
The right to choose the kind of labor and delivery I want. My medical files have been reviewed and I have been accepted for prenatal care and natural delivery through the Birth and Wellness Center. My gender reveal ultrasound is tomorrow at 3:30 and in two weeks, I begin prenatal care at Birthing and Wellness Center. I am really excited but just as I said in a previous blog I think some of my joy is withheld because I feel like something horrible could still happen in the last few months. I have always been afraid to put too much of my heart into anything, because when my heart is broken I don't recover well. I start smoking cigarettes burying myself in other destructive behaviors, comforted only by the fact that I am slowly killing myself. Anyway, fears aside, what happiness I let myself feel is sheer empowerment. I want to have a natural birth because as I've said before I don't deserve any comforts or easy rides anymore than any other woman. Since women have been giving birth for hundreds of years without pitocin and epidurals and hospital beds why am I such a delicate flower that I can't do what my body was designed to do on it's very own. I hear there is nothing like the searing pain of childbirth and often the natural pain relief techniques don't mean squat when the baby is on the way. It seems strange but I'm looking forward to the pain as well as the child. The only way I can describe this way of thinking is that to me such an intense and monumental pain seems exquisite, a true reminder of what it means to be alive. I view it as obtaining some sort of martyrdom without actually having to die. (though you might *wink*) There's just something to be said for suffering on another person's behalf. I hope I can keep this attitude through labor and delivery.
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